


Mazurka

by tsunbathing (bluebelle)



Series: Music School AU [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Developing Relationship, Gen, Musicians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebelle/pseuds/tsunbathing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toris transfers to a school for music. The adjustment is difficult for him, until he meets someone who seems to know what he's doing. </p><p>When Toris is still the new guy at school, Feliks doesn't expect to like him. But then they meet (twice), and he finds himself warming to him like he rarely does to strangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mazurka

Every afternoon, students at the academy of music had two hours to themselves in which to set up private lessons with their instructors or practice on their own. Toris transferred in nearly a month after classes started, and he intended to use every second of that time to practice.

Already that morning, the orchestra director had given him a dirty look each time he had missed a note. It happened more often than it should have. He had been given this music nearly a week ago, after all, and he wasn’t at that little school in the country anymore. He couldn’t waltz in there thinking he could slack off. (At least that’s what he imagined everyone around him was thinking.) He kept his eyes on his music and tried to focus until the end of class.

Toris wandered around the practice building after lunch, looking for an empty room. All the doors were closed but one, but he quickly realized that it, too, was occupied. The boy inside was slim and blond, his posture elegant. Toris was already heading in the opposite direction when he heard the music.

It was obviously a song made to go with a dance. The tempo could hardly be for anything else, but the image that immediately came to Toris’ mind as he listened was that of a hummingbird, or something else with wings. He silently returned to the door and peeked inside. The musician’s hands floated over the keys as trills of notes reached Toris’ ears.

Of course it was piano. He had tried to learn the piano once, but couldn’t achieve the grace that his favorite pieces demanded. His posture was bad, his fingers wouldn’t go where he wanted them to, and eventually his teacher had suggested that he try something else. Luckily he had found his way to the cello soon after.

The person at the piano finished and Toris let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. The pianist apparently had very good hearing, because he turned around with an expression of great surprise. His eyebrows shot up high on his forehead. His eyes, already large for his face, got even bigger. He then proceeded to turn crimson.

Toris started to go red as well, realizing he shouldn’t have been there at all. He tried to reconcile the situation by stammering something complimentary, but the other boy continued to sit on his bench, staring at him. He adopted an apologetic expression and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. He ran as fast as one could run while carrying a cello case and an armful of sheet music.

___

As time went on, Toris fell into a routine that matched most of the other students there. Stay up late practicing, memorizing, and socializing. Don’t get enough sleep. Try to survive off excess amounts of food and coffee. Spend every free moment practicing.

He still had trouble finding a room to work in most afternoons. A week after he had walked in on the pianist, he managed to repeat the incident. He walked into a room to find the exact same boy setting up his music at the keyboard, whistling to himself. Luckily he hadn’t started playing yet, but Toris felt intrusive all the same and turned to leave. Instead, the blond called out to him. Toris turned around and raised his hand in a little wave.

“You’re that transfer student, around you?” The boy spoke as if he already knew the answer, assessing Toris’ clothes and glancing at the music slipping out from under his arm.

Toris barely had the chance to agree before the other charged ahead. “You ran off before I could get your name, but I guess I have a second chance now, huh? Or did you just come here for another free concert?” His eyes were playful. “I’m Feliks, by the way.”

Toris introduced himself, going for a handshake. Feliks tried to hold down an explosion of giggles as Toris dropped his music in the process, teasing him about acting like an old man and helping him set the papers in order.

He then decided that Toris should perform something for him. “In return for last week,” he said, but Toris could see the childlike curiosity in his face and couldn’t help agreeing.

They both sat and Toris fumbled with his music. Performing was possibly his least favorite activity, but learning to play music he loved made up for it. Most of the time. He tried to forget that a complete stranger was watching and began to play the sonata that had gotten him into the school.

The piece was one he could probably play backwards for all the time he spent practicing it. He allowed himself to get lost in it, focusing only on timing and fingering. He let the last note swell and fill the room.

When he finally looked up, Feliks was staring at him, wearing an awed version of the expression he had worn the week before. It made Toris uncomfortable. “So,” he said nervously. “That’s that.” He got up to retrieve his things, hoping for a quick retreat.

“That was great,” Feliks said. He no longer sounded cocky, and when Toris looked at him again there was a half-smile on his face that suited him well. “No wonder they let you in after the start of classes.” Toris wasn’t sure how he was expected to respond to that, so he didn’t.

Feliks went on. “I guess you can stay here just this once.” The mischievous glint was back in his eyes. “But only if you promise that you won’t, like, start chewing gum or dancing around or anything.”

Toris let out a snort of laughter. “And how are we supposed to share a practice room? We’re not working on the same things.”

“We can fix that, silly, we just need to find something to work on together.” Feliks waved a hand dismissively, going through Toris’ music as if it was his own. He settled on a piece they both knew. Toris watched, disbelieving, as he improvised a part for himself on the spot. Toris forgot to play his own as he listened, and Feliks teased him again and started over.

It was the least productive practice Toris had since he arrived at school. He and Feliks talked about anything that came to mind in between repetitions of the song, and it seemed that their time was up before they had accomplished much. Even so, Toris left the practice building more relaxed than he’d entered it, waving to Feliks again as he went to class.


End file.
